


Cocktober 14:  Gluttony AKA Steve's Hot (dough)Balls

by Glitter_Bug



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Cries, Billy Hargrove Needs Love, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, But Mostly Comfort, Food, Hurt/Comfort, Little bit of angst, M/M, Overeating, Post S3, Steve Cooks, and cares, and he gets it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:28:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27015025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitter_Bug/pseuds/Glitter_Bug
Summary: Billy deals with some Post-Mindflayer angst.Steve cares and cuddles and cooks.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 16
Kudos: 82
Collections: Cocktober Prompt Meme





	Cocktober 14:  Gluttony AKA Steve's Hot (dough)Balls

**Author's Note:**

> Another silly fluffy one!
> 
> Steve cooks Italian food!
> 
> Minimal proof reading so lemme know if you spot any mistakes!

When Steve wakes up, he knows immediately that it’s not going to be a good day. 

There’s no part of Billy touching him. No big toe pressing against his ankle, no little finger linked onto his. That’s never a good sign. Even on the most blazing summer nights when they’re both too hot and sweaty to even hold hands, let alone cuddle up close, Billy will find some point of contact with Steve- some way for them to be connected across opposite sides of their king-sized bed. Says that he always likes to feel that Steve is there, that it helps him to fall asleep. Even when they shift in their sleep, some part of Billy will always find some part of Steve, will always make that connection again.

So for Steve to wake up without that, well, that’s warning sign number one.

Sign number two is the bunching of the sheets on Billy’s side of the bed, the way they’ve been thrown back so roughly. Steve feels a pang of guilt that he somehow slept through the tossing and turning. Wonders how long Billy lay there, wide awake and eyes staring out into the darkness, before he couldn’t ignore his racing mind anymore and he went to pace their apartment, checking the locks on the doors and staring out of the windows, watching the shadows and waiting for them to move, to grow, to form into the kind of monster Steve knows that they both still dream about. That they both wake up screaming about.

Then Steve hears the shower click on.

And that’s sign number three. 

He gets there before Billy can do too much harm. Jumps out of bed as soon as he hears the rush of water and is sliding into the bathroom within seconds, his feet skidding on the cracked linoleum. Even so, steam is already filling the small room and Steve can see the bright redness of Billy’s skin as he stands under the scalding stream. 

“Baby,” Steve murmurs, his voice as gentle as he can make it, “Billy, baby, it’s OK.” Steve reaches out to turn the water down, turn it to something less searing. 

“Cold,” Billy mutters, his hand reaching back for the temperature dial. Steve catches hold of him and laces their fingers together.

“No baby, no, you’re fine. You’re good.” Slowly, gradually, Steve reaches over to turn the shower off completely. He wraps Billy in a towel and leads him back to the bedroom, checking over his skin for any damage. Luckily he got there in time. He’s had plenty of practice.

Steve knows the routine off by heart. He’s spent a long time learning how to be there for Billy, learning what to do when Billy has moments like this; moments when he wakes up and forgets where he is, when his mind has gone back to wherever it went when he was Flayed, the dark, hidden corner than he retreated to when trying to fight and resist got too hard and he just wanted everything to stop. 

Steve knows that Billy might never fully recover. That there’s only so much that therapy can do. 

But Steve knows that, at least, he can  _ help. _

So he does. He gets Billy dried off and hands him a pair of soft joggers, which Billy puts on without a word while Steve quickly dashes out to use the bathroom and grab a glass of water. When he comes back, Billy is sitting on the edge of the bed, staring into space- not even registering when Steve steps closer to him, pressing the glass of water into his hand.

“Drink, baby,” Steve encourages. And Billy does. 

Then Steve gets him tucked back into bed and curls around him, wrapping him in his arms and planting tiny kisses along his hairline, behind his ears, across his shoulders when they start to shake. 

“I’ve got you Billy, I’ve got you baby, you’re OK.”

Billy’s sobs are silent, but Steve can feel the tears dripping onto his arms. 

“You just got a bit lost baby, it’s OK. I found you. I’ll always find you Bill.”

Steve keeps on talking, repeating himself over and over until he feels Billy start to drift off. Holds him as his hitching breaths turn into little huffy snores. Entwines their legs and presses himself even closer, his hand over Billy’s heart and his lips pressing right into his hair. Makes sure that Billy can feel him there. 

Falls back to sleep with as much of him touching Billy as he can manage. 

When Steve wakes up for the second time, it’s to a grumbling, wriggling Billy.

“Lemme up Harrington, I’ve gotta piss.”

Billy gives him a rough shove, almost kicking him in his haste to get out of the bed.

And Steve knows that when Billy gets to this stage, it's best to leave him for a bit. Give him space. Knows that Billy always feels ashamed of himself when he’s had a ‘bad time’. Knows that if he pushes, then Billy will snap; will shout and throw things and hurl insults at Steve. And then he’ll feel worse again, will spiral right back round and get lost inside his head.

So Steve shuffles out of bed. Presses a gentle kiss to Billy’s shoulder as they pass in the hallway and makes his way to the kitchen.

Steve also knows that Billy likes noise. Even if he can’t quite cope with a physical presence, he needs to hear that Steve is still close, is still bustling around the house and hasn't left him entirely alone. Hasn’t been disgusted by Billy acting ‘like a pussy’, hasn't abandoned him.

So Steve twists the dial on the radio in the kitchen window and sets it to the Golden Oldies station that they both call cheesy yet always end up singing along to. He turns up the volume a little higher than he usually does, lets the house fill with The Hollies and hums along as he bustles around the kitchen.    
  
_ Sometimes all I need is the air that I breathe _

_ And to love you _

Steve knows that Billy’s gonna be a while yet before he appears, knows that he’ll take a long shower- normal temperature this time- and then he’ll spend a while sorting out his hair. Will use the blow dryer and the curling iron and at least three of the products that he makes fun of Steve for owning, and he’ll look stunning by the end of the process. Then he’ll spend a good half hour rifling through his wardrobe and putting a  _ look  _ together. Steve knows it’s important. Knows that Billy needs to feel back in control, knows that the hair and the clothes and the occasional pop of eyeliner and gloss are the next steps for Billy to start to feel like himself again. 

And Steve knows that when Billy appears, when he’s finally ready to face the world, he’ll look like a vision with golden curls and tight jeans. Knows that he’ll lick his cherry lips and rake his eyes over Steve and say something cocky and be pretty much back to Billy again. 

And Steve also knows that he’ll be absolutely  _ ravenous.  _

So he gets started on lunch.

***

By the time Billy emerges from the bedroom, looking just as utterly divine as Steve had predicted, lunch is almost ready.

There’s a sizzling pan on the go, hot oil spitting into the air and filling the kitchen with the delicious scent of frying dough balls.

The dining table is set, a selection of meats and cheese already arranged artistically along a long wooden board in the middle. 

Steve likes to make an effort when he can. 

As expected, Billy walks straight up to Steve and gives his ass a slap,

“Hey baby, you got your meat out just for me?” Billy grins, and Steve bats him away, mindful of the spitting pan on the hob. He fishes out the last few dough balls and plates them up, before turning off the heat and bringing the steaming plate over to the table where Billy is waiting eagerly.

“Whatchya made today baby?” he asks, fingers reaching for one of the hot balls.

Steve slaps his hand away, but Billy reaches again and pops one in his mouth.

“Coccoli,” Steve smirks at the sudden pained expression on Billy’s face, “And they’re hot so I’d wait a minute.”

Billy spits the dough ball out into his hand, “Coulda warned me, fucking cock-things” he pouts.

“I did try,” Steve smiles, before reaching over to the platter in the middle. He’s just hovering over the cheese selection when Billy stretches out to take his hand and link their fingers together. Steve looks up to find Billy staring at him, bright blue eyes shining with a warmth that takes Steve’s breath away.

“Stevie,” 

Steve still gets a thrill when Billy calls him that. Loves the way it sounds coming from his mouth. So personal, so intimate.

“Stevie,” Billy starts again, reaching out to take Steve’s other hand, and the warmth inside Steve grows even stronger, “Thank you.”

Steve frowns. 

“Uh, you’re welcome. But you’ve not even tried it-” 

“Nah, not...not the food baby.” Billy swallows, nibbles on his lip, his eyes still fixed on Steve’s, “I,uh, I didn’t have a great night. I was...I dreamt...I thought. It doesn’t matter. But you, you just...helped. You were there, you  _ stayed. _ Again.” Steve can see the tears starting to form in Billy’s eyes, wants to reach out and brush them away as soon as they start to fall, but Billy’s holding on to his hands and there’s no way that Steve’s gonna make him let go before he’s ready. 

“No one’s ever helped before,” Billy’s voice is husky. “No one’s ever stayed. But you, damn Steve, you just...care. So much.”

“Of course I care, Billy, baby, I love you. I  _ love  _ you.”

Billy nods. His cheeks are wet now, but he still keeps holding on to Steve’s hands, 

“I just...I figured you’d be sick of me by now, be sick of all ..my shit. But you  _ stayed. _ ”

And Steve can feel his eyes burning now, can feel the lump growing in his throat. He swallows it down. He needs to say something, needs Billy to hear it.

“I’m gonna stay baby, I’m always gonna stay. Whatever you need, I’m here- OK. Always gonna be here. Always gonna be here for you.”

Billy lets go at that, presses his hands to his face and cries. Loudly, for once, loudly and messily and Steve’s flying out of his chair before he even thinks about it, sending his fork clattering to the floor and just launching himself at Billy, holding him and rocking him and kissing into his freshly styled hair until the tears stop falling. 

Billy shuffles out of Steve’s embrace with a cough, scrubs at his face and turns back to the food. Steve moves back to his chair, ducks down and spends a few moments longer than he needs to rescuing his fork, and by the time he’s upright, Billy’s smirking again

“Think your cock balls have cooled down by now?" his voice is still a little watery, but Steve grins back. Passes the coccoli over and rolls his eyes as Billy scoops half of them onto his plate. Helps himself to a large chuck of the cheese and watches the utter bliss on Billy’s face as he slips the dough ball into his mouth. Relishes the utterly filthy noise he makes when he tastes it.

***

An hour later, and they’re both lying back on the couch, Billy with his jeans unzipped and Steve with his fingers lazily trailing down Billy’s side, drifting over his now protruding belly, inching their way down down down and lightly brushing over Billy’s crotch.

Billy lets out a moan, and then another one- slightly more pained. He reaches down to grab at Steve’s fingers.

“Not yet Stevie, not yet. I’m still...still digesting.” he groans again, rubbing at his stomach. “Think I’m a bit too stuffed with your cock….oli.”

Steve can’t help but give him a jab in the gut for that one.


End file.
